Innocent Target

by Elisabeth Rees

  “I’m not sure I can do this,” she said, stopping in her tracks on the path. “What if nobody wants me here?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Ryan replied. “The pastor said everyone was welcome to attend this memorial service, and that includes you.”

  But he barely got the words out before someone else piped up, saying, “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here today, missy.”

  “Oh no,” Kitty said, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. “Frank Price.”

  “Now is not the time or the place, Frank,” Ryan said, putting his arm around Kitty. “Show some respect.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he said, walking up the path with Sheila on one side and Buzz on the other. “I’m showing respect for a dead man. Kitty can show her respect by staying away. After all, she never really cared for Harvey.”

  “That’s enough, Frank,” Ryan said. “Can’t you lay off Kitty, just for one day?”

  “It sounds like someone’s in love,” Frank said nastily, walking on past. “Just because you’re sweet on Kitty doesn’t mean I have to be nice to her. I’ll have my say.”

  “Be careful, Frank,” Ryan called after him. “You don’t want to get yourself arrested for harassment now, do you?”

  At that moment, Kitty wanted to hug Ryan for being firm with Frank when she felt so vulnerable. Facing the town in its entirety was always tough, and she welcomed someone shielding her.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sheila said, slowing to a halt and allowing Frank to walk on ahead. “He’s in a foul mood this morning, worse than usual, so I’d give him a wide berth if I were you.”

  Kitty eyed the discolored skin around Sheila’s eye, a bruise that her heavy makeup couldn’t cover. By the looks of it, Frank’s foul mood had already taken a heavy toll on his wife.

  “Are you okay?” Ryan asked. “You look like you’ve got an eye injury.”

  “Oh, this,” she said, gingerly touching the bruise. “I fell against a coffee table.”

  Ryan reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card. “Take this. If you need me at any time, just call.”

  Sheila put up her hand. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m fine, really I am.”

  “Take it, Grandma,” Buzz urged. “Quick, before Grandpa turns around.”

  Sheila’s eyes darted to her husband and back to Ryan. She then plucked the card from his fingers, deposited it in her purse and linked her arm through her grandson’s without another word.

  Buzz smiled at Kitty, and she returned the smile with gratitude. A gesture of kindness, no matter how small, had the power to lift her spirits.

  “Do you believe the story about falling on a coffee table?” she said, as soon as Sheila and Buzz were out of earshot.

  “Sure, if you switch ‘I fell’ for ‘I was pushed,’” Ryan replied. “She might have hit the coffee table, but Frank was the cause of it. I’ve heard all the regular excuses before. Some women walk into doors, others slip on floors and one woman even told me that her dog caused her black eye.”

  Kitty saw Frank stop at the church door, turn around and wait impatiently for his family, foot tapping.

  “Sheila’s been married to Frank for forty years,” Ryan said. “That’s a long time to put up with physical abuse. Doesn’t anybody in Bethesda ever try to stage an intervention?”

  “The Price family is very private,” Kitty said, remembering how her father had attempted to reason with Sheila a few years back, when he caught sight of bruises on her upper arms. “Sheila has never admitted there’s a problem, and probably never will. But Buzz is growing into a strong young man, and I reckon he’ll decide to step in soon enough.”

  “I’m not sure about Buzz anymore,” Ryan said. “He’s kind of secretive.”

  “I’ve known Buzz since he was a baby,” she said. “And he’s a good kid.”

  “I hope you’re right, because Sheila needs someone looking out for her.” He offered Kitty his crooked elbow. “Are you ready to go inside?”

  She linked her arm with his. “No, but let’s do it anyway.”

  “We can wait awhile if you like.”

  She suddenly felt as if she had nothing to lose, no reason to hold back her emotions.

  “Will you reconsider meeting my father on Monday? I really care about you, Ryan, and if you really, truly care about me, you’ll at least think about it. Do it for me.”

  He swallowed hard, sliding his arm from hers and shifting to stand opposite. He was conflicted. She could see it in his face.

  “I’ll think about it,” he said finally. “For you.”

  * * *

  Ryan tried to focus his attention on the pastor’s tribute to Harvey, but his mind kept drifting to Kitty and her impassioned request. Meeting Harry Linklater was a big deal. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to make a scene in the prison meeting room, especially if he saw a smirk on Harry’s lips, just like the one he’d seen on the face of his sister’s unrepentant killer.

  He glanced around the packed church. Practically the whole town had turned out to remember Harvey and say a prayer for the unknown woman recovered from the Starlight Bar. The faces of those present appeared worried, no doubt wondering how a body could have been concealed in their little town right under their noses for so long. Everybody wanted answers and they would be looking to Ryan to provide them.

  As the service drew to a close, the pastor invited the congregation to kneel and pray for peace to descend on the town of Bethesda. Ryan reached for the floor cushion under his seat, dropping his Bible as he did so. It fell open at Hebrews and his eyes were drawn to a verse in chapter thirteen: “Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them; and them which suffer adversity, as being yourselves also in the body.”

  He picked up the Bible, closed it and placed it on his chair, having made up his mind in that briefest of moments. He would visit Harry Linklater in prison and he would do it without complaint. He had been reminded that it was his duty to do so.

  After the prayer was completed, he looked at Kitty. She had remained in her kneeling position, head bowed, eyes tightly shut. He rose to his feet, giving her the time and space to unburden herself. That’s when he saw Sheriff Wilkins heading his way, weaving through the throng of people, his mustache drooping with the downturned corners of his mouth.

  “Hello there, Ryan,” he said, with a passing glance at Kitty. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

  Reluctantly, he said, “Sure,” and led the sheriff to the back of the church, where some members of the congregation were standing and chatting, a handful crying after the emotion of the service. The atmosphere was highly charged, and the sheriff was about to add his own strong feelings to it.

  “Can you tell me why Shane has got a ridiculous theory about a serial killer being on the loose?” the sheriff whispered, steering Ryan to a quiet corner. “Please tell me you didn’t put the idea in his head.”

  “I think it might be a little more than a ridiculous theory, Jim,” Ryan said. “Did you see the similarities between those young women who’ve disappeared over the years? They’re all dead ringers for Molly Thomas.”

  “That proves nothing,” the sheriff scoffed. “Apart from poor Molly herself and the girl who washed up in the river a couple years back, the others are probably alive and well, started afresh someplace else. You can’t go assuming they’ve all been murdered.”

  “We should at least investigate it,” Ryan argued. “The body found beneath the floor of the Starlight Bar could be a victim of the same killer. And this guy might still be out there, ready to strike again.”

  The sheriff’s bushy blond eyebrows lowered until his pupils were barely visible.

  “Even if there has been more than one murder, how do you know it wasn’t Harry Linklater behind them all? We know he killed Molly, don’t we?” he said through gritted teeth.
“Are you seriously saying that you think we put the wrong man in prison?”

  “No. I mean maybe. I don’t know. Perhaps Harry was involved in her killing somehow, but I strongly suspect there’s another man out there who was part of it. He’s been attacking Kitty and he killed Harvey to stop the truth from being revealed.”

  The sheriff put a firm hand on Ryan’s shoulder, pressing down hard. He spoke in the quiet manner of a man trying to restrain his anger.

  “Some crackpot is angry at Kitty for stirring up trouble, and Harvey set fire to his bar and then took his own life because his business was about to go bankrupt.”

  “We don’t know that’s what happened to Harvey for sure, Sheriff.”

  “That’s what the investigation will conclude, Ryan.” The sheriff checked the vicinity to ensure they weren’t being overheard. “There’s no serial killer and there’s no danger to the public. If you start spreading news like this, you’ll create pandemonium.”

  “But what if it’s true?”

  “It’s not true.” The sheriff had raised his voice, causing people to turn and stare. He smiled cordially and lowered his tone again. “I’m ordering you to let this ridiculous idea go, Ryan. Your close relationship with Kitty has affected your judgment and you’re looking for ways to prove her father’s innocence.”

  “That’s not what I’m trying to do, Jim,” Ryan protested. “It really isn’t.”

  “Isn’t it? I see you’re still living down by the lake. Didn’t I ask you to move out of that place?”

  “Yes, you did, but it’s not fair to ask that of me. Kitty’s in real danger. I can’t leave her alone right now.”

  The older man smoothed the strands of his mustache with his thumb and forefinger, breathing so hard that his nose whistled slightly.

  “Well, I guess you’ve made your choice then,” he said, putting on his hat and setting it straight. “Next week I’ll be announcing my support for Sergeant Stephen Hopper to be our next county sheriff. As you know, he’s one of my best men from Lawton. However much as I’d like to see you take over my job when I retire, I can’t endorse a man who’s so closely tied with the Linklater family. The press would have a field day.”

  Ryan’s belly turned over with disappointment. He knew this news was likely coming, but it devastated him nonetheless. Ever since he was a teenager he’d imagined becoming county sheriff, but the dream was now evaporating. It might be many years before another chance came his way.

  “I respect your choice, Jim,” Ryan said. “But I have to follow my conscience and do what I think is right.”

  “So you’re prepared to throw away your career on Kitty?”

  “I’m keeping her and the community safe. Everything else is irrelevant.”

  “I admire your resolve, Ryan,” the sheriff said, offering a handshake. “Even if I don’t understand it.”

  Ryan watched him weave his way through the crowd, heading for the door. Ryan could run for the office of sheriff without the endorsement of Jim Wilkins, but it would be futile. The sheriff was hugely popular and widely influential. Without his support, Ryan’s election hopes were dashed, but he’d learn to accept it in time. Being a chief deputy wasn’t such a bad life, and he vowed to count his blessings.

  Kitty had now finished her prayer and was rifling through her purse. Ryan suspected that she needed nothing inside, but was avoiding engaging with the people watching her. Some were staring with open hostility and Frank appeared to be their chief cheerleader, as he stood beside Carla, talking loudly about Harvey’s “issues with harassment.”

  Ryan caught Kitty’s eye and pointed to the door, motioning to leave. She eagerly zipped up her purse and made her way to him. She was wearing a fawn-colored coat and pink skirt suit, and had spent a long time on her appearance that morning, he knew, clearly wanting to make the right and reverent impression under the circumstances. Her indecision had made her appear insecure and vulnerable, and he had worked hard to reassure her that nobody would judge her on her clothes.

  But he’d been wrong.

  “I might’ve known you’d treat this service as a runway show, Kitty,” Carla said unpleasantly. “It’s always got to be about you, hasn’t it?”

  “That was mean, Carla,” Joe said, stepping away from his wife. “Kitty, I’m glad you came today. It’s good to see you.”

  An elderly couple nodded in agreement and patted Kitty’s shoulder as she passed. It was heartwarming to see that her detractors were small in number and often put in their place by the good people of Bethesda.

  Ryan held out his hand for her to take, which she did with a tense smile. “Ignore the haters,” he said. “You don’t need their approval.”

  “It sometimes feels like I’m fighting a losing battle with some people.”

  He caught sight of Sheriff Wilkins’s big frame slipping out the exit. “You know something, Kitty? I feel the same way.”

  * * *

  Kitty could scarcely believe what she was hearing. “You want to meet my father? This isn’t a joke, is it?”

  “No,” Ryan said. “It’s not a joke.”

  She smiled, though she was still suppressing the feeling of rising happiness in case something happened to snatch it away.

  “And you’re absolutely sure?”

  “Yes, I’m absolutely sure.”

  “What persuaded you?”

  “Let’s just say I had a change of heart.”

  She felt both euphoria and anxiety. Did Ryan want to interview her father about the body beneath the floor? Was he using this visit as an opportunity to accuse her dad of being involved with a serial killer?

  She walked to the sink to fill the kettle. “Will you be asking him any questions?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Is this just a chance to try and pump him for information? You and Shane still think he might be responsible for Molly’s murder and maybe even more besides, don’t you? So if you’re planning on using the visiting time to interrogate him, then I’d rather you didn’t come at all.” She realized that she sounded defensive so she softened her tone. “It would upset him, you see. And he didn’t look well the last time I saw him.”

  “I won’t be questioning him, Kitty,” Ryan said. “To be honest with you, I have no idea what I’m going to say. But whether he committed a crime or not shouldn’t really matter. He’s in prison and he deserves some compassion.”

  Kitty was taken aback by this. Showing consideration to prisoners had never been high on Ryan’s agenda before. In fact, he actively believed that those convicted of a crime should serve their time as a penance. Hadn’t he said that murderers deserved no visitors at all?

  “What about the man who killed your sister?” she asked. “Should he be shown compassion, too?”

  At the question, Ryan’s face betrayed an inner struggle and he rubbed the back of his neck while leaning against the kitchen counter, his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow.

  “Yes,” he said. “I guess everybody deserves a second chance, and that includes Cody Jones.”

  “Wow, Ryan,” she said, lifting two mugs from their hooks on the wall. “I never thought I’d hear you say that. It isn’t easy to show kindness to someone who’s stolen something so precious, and I’m really proud of you for trying.”

  “If I don’t try, I’ll never fully move on, right?”

  She smiled at him, wondering how she was going to switch off her growing attraction to him now that he was truly opening up, revealing his weaker side and confiding his deepest feelings.

  “Hating someone takes a lot of energy,” he said. “And I hated my sister’s killer with a passion that consumed me for a long time after her death. Jones was all I ever thought about.” He threw his hands in the air. “How stupid is that? I wasted countless hours imagining ways I could hurt him. It helped no one, least of all me.”


  “You’re right,” she said, moving closer to him, sliding her hand across the smooth kitchen counter as she went. “Hate is incredibly self-destructive.”

  “That’s why I’m frustrated with some of the residents in Bethesda. They’re so busy hating you that they’re making the whole town suffer. I’m proud of you, too. I’m proud of the way you’ve dealt with their animosity and their nasty comments. You’re a tough cookie, you know that?”

  She blushed a little, unreasonably happy with his praise. She knew this conversation was steering her toward dangerous waters, but she didn’t have the power to change course.

  “I’m not all that tough, really,” she said quietly. “I just do a pretty good job of pretending.”

  He spoke in hushed tones to match hers. “We all pretend to be someone we’re not at times.”

  She leaned in closer. “Even you?”

  “Sure. Shane keeps teasing me about my romantic feelings for you, and I pretend he’s got it all wrong. I hide behind my uniform and say it’s my job to take care of everyone. But any fool can see that I care for you a whole lot more than I care for anybody else. Shane sees it, Sheriff Wilkins sees it, Frank sees it and I’m pretty sure you see it.”

  Kitty was lost for words. She had sensed a special connection between her and Ryan, but had no idea that his feelings ran as deep as hers.

  “I’ve been trying not to get close to you,” she said, her lips just millimeters away from Ryan’s. “It’s too complicated.”

  She felt his breath on her mouth, warm and sweet. “Yes, it’s complicated,” he said. “But not impossible.”

  His hand touched her cheek, cupping one side of her face, his pinkie finger gently running along the faint line left by the knife, as if he could erase it away.

  Then she pressed her lips to his, forgetting why she was fighting against his affections. For a few blissful seconds she melted into his embrace, slipping her hand into his and holding tight. At that moment, he was strong and solid and dependable, and she loved him for it. But it was a fleeting emotion.